


everything you think you know

by profound_garden



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rated T for the occasional swear, a little angsty but they're just dramatic high schoolers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profound_garden/pseuds/profound_garden
Summary: Here’s what Emily knows:1. She’s in love with Lindsey.2. Lindsey is her best friend.3. She’ll never be anything more than best friends with Lindsey.or, Emily thinks she's got a grip on her feelings for Lindsey. But things in high school aren't always as easy as they seem.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	everything you think you know

**Author's Note:**

> lmaooo ok after yesterday i think i might be falling out of love w lindsey and this ship pretty quickly... but i already had this almost finished so here ya go. fun fact i wrote the first half of this YEARS ago as a cringey little experiment with different people but i figured fuck it, let's just make it another soran fic and be done. also my little self-indulgent fix-it feature of this fictional universe is that lindsey horan is not a registered republican just to be clear :'-)

Here’s what Emily knows:

  1. She’s in love with Lindsey.
  2. Lindsey is her best friend.
  3. She’ll never be anything more than best friends with Lindsey.



//

“GOAAAAAAAL!” Emily whooped as she took a victory lap around the makeshift soccer pitch (Lindsey’s backyard). She lowered her voice, doing her best rendition of a commentator: “Aaaaand Sonnett does it again, a hat trick to save the lives of the US Women’s Soccer team in the final minutes of the World Cup final, oh what a shot, what a goal! Singlehandedly disarming the helpless Germany-” she was cut off by Lindsey’s splutters.

“What? No! Sonny,” she protested, laughing too hard to speak coherently (Emily still understood her perfectly), “I’m not Germany! And why do you get to be the U.S.? This is just 1v1!”

Emily gasped dramatically.

“ _ Just _ 1v1?! Lindsey, are you even a soccer player? This is  _ futbol _ , it’s never  _ just _ a game―it’s a lifestyle.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” she scoffed. “Come on, let’s keep going. We have to play a tiebreaker now; it’s 3-3.”

Grudgingly, Emily stood up from her sprawl on the Horan’s front yard.

“Fine. Only because you’re going to owe me a giant glass of homemade sweet tea.”

“Wha- We never shook on that! Sonnett, we don’t even have- Son!”

But the girl in question had already started dribbling the ball away from the protesting blonde, racing down the lawn.

“Ooh, what’s that Lindsey? Can’t hear you over the sound of my VICTOR- oh,  _ what _ ?!”

Lindsey had caught up to the trash-talking defender, stealing the ball while Emily taunted her.

“Looks like the tables have turned! Oh! And the Great Horan scores! The U.S. wins 4-3!” She stuck her tongue out at Emily childishly, who was shaking her head but couldn’t hide her grin.

“Okay, whatever. I still won Pictionary last night, so my pride is intact.”

“You were  _ cheating _ ! You and Rose were cheating, I  _ know _ it!”

“Yeah, well,  _ you _ were too busy texting Russell to catch us,” Emily shot back. Suddenly, the mood shifted―Emily’s retort carried a sharper edge to it than their usual light-hearted banter. Lindsey furrowed her brow, confused by this sudden change in atmosphere.

“What... we were just talking about the homework, Sonnett...”

Emily sighed, nodding.

“Yeah, I know, but…” she trailed off. “Nevermind, forget it. I just get this weird sense from him. You know the guy gives me a bad vibe.”

“It’s fine, Sonny. I’m playing it safe, I’m not going to let him hurt me again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Emily muttered.  _ I also know you said that last time, and the time before that, and you’re going to be saying it again next month, but he always hurts you in the end and it’s always me that has to carry you through the whole damn cycle _ . “It’s just…you’re my best friend, Lindsey.”  _ And a little more than that _ .

The blonde’s face softened.

“I know. You’re mine, too.”

Emily was the first to look away from their increasingly intense eye contact. “Hey, uh, I think I have to go now. Emma’s been begging me to go see that new movie with her so I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that victory sweet tea.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s fine. Tell Emma I said hi! And- wait, you didn’t even win! You-”

“Yeah, whatever, later!” Emily threw up a peace sign behind her as she walked out to her car.  _ Whew _ . These moments―tension-filled silences and words with dangerous potential to mean more―were becoming increasingly common, and Emily didn’t know what to make of it.  _ Maybe I’m imagining all of this. Maybe it means nothing. She’s still pining over Russell. I’m just her best friend. And I’m fine with that. Right? _

//

“Right on!” Emily cheered, albeit half-heartedly, as Crystal dropped down and did the worm on the Horan basement floor. Soccer team sleepovers were one of Emily’s many favorite parts of being on the team (“You have to pick  _ one _ favorite part, Emily, ‘all of it’ is a cop-out answer!” “Shut up, Lindsey, my favorite  _ is _ all of it! I can’t just pick one!”). But lately, the team-only exclusivity of the sleepovers had been corrupted by other guests stopping by during the night―most infuriatingly, boyfriends. Emily considered herself a pretty chill person, and she didn’t mind a few extra friends visiting now and then, but when it was 11:46 pm and her best friend was still talking with her kind-of-ex-boyfriend upstairs, well. Emily was a little irked, and her teammates noticed (the older ones, anyway, knew why — the freshmen were pretty oblivious as usual).

“That’s the first thing you’ve said in, like, minutes,” Sam nudged her. “Which is weird for you, party animal. You alright?”

“Yeah, dude,” Kelley chimed in. She and Abby had edged over almost instantly, with their uncanny ability to know almost exactly what the conversation was about before it had even begun. The two shared concerned looks on their faces. 

“Is this...about Lindsey?” Abby pushed hesitantly.

“She’s been upstairs for a while now. Maybe you should go get her? This is a  _ team _ sleepover,” Sam suggested softly.

“Huh? Oh…yeah. Yeah! I’ll go get her. I mean, she’s my best friend. And she and Russell are probably done by now. Yeah. Thanks, dudes,” she mumbled as she strode off towards the stairs, missing the worried faces of her teammates behind her.

“She’s going to get hurt again.”

“Which one?”

//

After Emily’s leisurely turn of the corner into the living room, her call of “Yo Linds, where you at?” died in her throat as she saw the blonde in question nestled into Russell on the couch. Frozen, Emily was unable to move away, and forced to watch as he leaned over to murmur to her best friend.

“Lindsey, I’m in love with Mal.”

//

Here’s what Emily knows:

  1. Russell does not love Lindsey.
  2. Lindsey loves Russell. For now, anyway.
  3. It doesn’t matter, because there will always be someone else.



and, 4. Mal loves Dansby, not Russell, and it’s unlikely that she ever will, but that doesn’t mean Russell will stop loving Mal. ( _ Emily knows a bit about loving someone you shouldn’t, too. _ )

//

Emily spun back around the corner, pressing herself flat into the wall.  _ Fuck! Why would he tell her that, doesn’t he know she still likes him, she’s going to be- oh, Linds. She’s going to be devastated.  _ She sighed silently before peeling herself off of the wall and turning into the kitchen, where she began pulling out the ingredients for pancakes―the Horan house had become a second home to her over the years, and she knew how the kitchen was organized almost better than Lindsey herself did. (“Ugh, I can never find the flou- Emily, what? How did you find it faster than me?!” “Your mom organizes the pantry like the food pyramid; flour’s a carb so it’s at the bottom. Duh.”) Pancakes were Lindsey’s go-to thing to eat when she was heartbroken; ergo, they were Emily’s go-to thing to make when her best friend was miserable.

Even separated by two walls and a hallway, Emily’s knowing ears could hear Lindsey’s quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Oh. That’s, um. Well.”

Wincing, Emily tried to tune out by distracting herself with her inner monologue.  _ Flour on the bottom shelf, eggs in the door on the fridge, don’t bump the soy sauce bottle, crap was I supposed to turn in that online quiz tonight? ... Nah, it’s due on Sunday, but I gotta do it tomorrow. Mixing bowl’s in the corner cabinet, grab the colander so it doesn’t rattle, find the whisk _ -

“Hey.”

“Ow!” Emily hissed as she bumped her head on the cabinet shelf. “Oh. Hey.” She looked up to see Lindsey standing above her, eyes red and watery with a lackluster smile on her face.

“You heard us, didn’t you?”

Emily opened her mouth to protest but stopped, dropping her head.

“Yeah. Just the end.” The end was more than enough, they both knew. “Lindsey…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” They both knew it was a lie. “Wait, are you making pancakes? God, yes! Your pancakes are the best!”

Emily gave her a wry smile.  _ They should be. I’ve had a lot of practice. _

“Yeah, just got some midnight munchies. They’ll be done soon. You want to, uh, go wash your face really quick?”

Lindsey’s bright smile momentarily dimmed as she remembered why her cheeks were wet, but she nodded.

“Thanks for making me pancakes, by the way. You’re the best.”

“Well, yeah. You’re my best friend.” She paused, looking into Lindsey’s eyes before turning abruptly as the pancakes began sizzling. When she looked up, the blonde was gone, presumably in the bathroom. 

After flipping the pancakes, Emily glanced over at the leftover batter ingredients, judging there to be enough for plenty more. Shuffling over to the basement stairs, she yelled to her teammates.

“HEY! I’M MAKING PANCAKES IF YOU GUYS WANT ANY!”  _ 3, 2, 1 _ …

Yells of agreement came from below, the over-enthusiastic freshmen screaming the loudest. Soon the mob had moved its way into the kitchen, and the air suddenly filled with voices chattering happily and asking was there maple syrup and was there ketchup and ew no Cat that's disgusting and hey don’t knock it ‘til you try it and oh my god we’re eating pancakes at midnight-

“Okay, I'm only making enough for everyone to have two,  _ small _ , pancakes, because-” Emily raised her voice over the ensuing groans of protest “ _ -because _ , uh, this isn't my house. and even though the Horans have never cut me off from their pancake ingredients, I'm not gonna push it. Capiche?”

The team grumbled its reluctant understanding as Emily began dishing out the mini pancakes. Lindsey soon returned to swoop in and grab a plateful of three, dismissing the protests with a reminder that it was  _ her _ house and Sonnett was  _ her _ best friend and as such  _ she _ held more right to the pancakes than anyone else. The complaints were grumbled away quickly, with the help of a few stern looks from the upperclassmen who hadn’t missed their teammate’s red-rimmed eyes.

After the griddled goods had been distributed and taken back downstairs, the team settled down in the den of the Horan basement to watch a few classic films, namely cinematic greats such as  _ Bend It Like Beckham _ . The freshmen occupied one corner in a giggling, whispering mass, which spilled into the sophomore space in front of the couch, which was in turn occupied by a mix of juniors and seniors. Emily herself was sprawled across the laps of her teammates on the couch, her head resting on Lindsey’s lap.

“Hey Lindsey,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” came the reply.

“You alright?”

Silence.

Just as Emily was about to ask again, louder, she heard a sob escape her best friend. She looked up to see tears rolling down Lindsey’s face, her body shaking quietly.  _ Oh, fuck _ . Emily found herself frozen again for the second time that night, struck by a crippling sense of hesitation. She snapped out of it soon enough, as others began noticing as well. In an instant, Emily found herself surrounded by teammates offering embraces and hushed words of comfort to the crying girl beside her.

Before she knew it, the team had arranged itself in a rough circle on the den floor (movie long since forgotten), centered around Lindsey, who was rubbing her face and insisting that “I’m fine, guys, it’s really okay, I’m okay” but nobody was fooled. Finally, after Lindsey’s sobs had subsided to the occasional sniffle, Emily (after a few nudges and pointed looks) cleared her throat softly.

“Do you…want to talk about it?”

Lindsey shrugged, giving a hiccuping sigh.

“I just- I thought that maybe…if I was careful-” hiccup “it would work out this time, but…” She choked up, tears welling up again.

The girls aww-ed and offered a chorus of overlapping voices, all assuring her “it’s not your fault” and “it’ll be okay.” Emily edged over across from Lindsey, mirroring her crossed legs and taking the blonde’s hands in hers.

“Dude.” She intoned seriously. “He’s a loser and he doesn’t appreciate you anyway.” The team nodded their agreement.

_ I told you he would hurt you _ , she doesn’t say.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lindsey concedes. “I just- hoped, I guess. That this time would be different.”

_ I know _ , she doesn’t say.

//

Over the next few weeks, Lindsey slowly got over her ex-boyfriend for what she swore was the final time. With the help of the occasional wallowing session (“Linds! Why are there three empty pints of Ben & Jerry’s on the counter‽”) and perusing various embarrassing pictures of Russell.

But the satisfaction of her recovery was dampened by the absence of her best friend. Emily always responded to Lindsey’s texts, but lately her answers had been short and generic where they were usually lively and hilarious. Lindsey wasn’t used to the creeping feeling of emptiness when she checked her phone only to be met by a blank screen.  _ Emily’s probably just busy _ , she told herself, trying to shake off the sense of disappointment that nevertheless hung over her like a stormcloud.

//

Actually, Emily was absolutely avoiding Lindsey. Completely, actually, totally avoiding her best friend. Part of her felt guilty, but the larger part of her was just tired. Tired of hearing about Russell, tired of comparing herself to him,  _ tired _ of being in love with Lindsey. It was exhausting, frankly. But it wasn’t like she could just stop, so she tried to slow it down instead. And so her replies to Lindsey’s texts were short and curt, and when she went out to take some penalty shots she didn’t ask her best friend if she wanted to join.

//

But here’s the thing:

  1. Playing soccer alone is really not as fun when you’re used to having someone next to you. Emma, while a good sport, often had other things to do, and more often than not Emily found herself on an empty field.
  2. With nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company, Emily couldn’t help but think about the circumstances that had led to her solitude.
  3. When Emily thinks too much, her shots tend to miss.



//

At school, the routine marched on with no regards to the muddled feelings of conflicted teenagers. Lindsey stopped taking a longer route from choir to English to walk with Russell, and Emily strategically always struck up conversation with Sam on her way to anatomy to avoid eye contact with Lindsey. Eventually, the blonde caught on to her (ex?) best friend’s antics. Unfortunately, awareness in no way meant a way for Lindsey to somehow take action. Since Emily seemed to always have at least one friend to act as a buffer between them, it was hard for Lindsey to get her alone. Worse, she didn’t even know why her friend was acting so distant. Obviously it had something to do with Lindsey herself, because none of their mutual friends reported similar behavior from the usually amiable Emily: 

“I dunno, Lindsey. Maybe she just realized how much better I am than you, and rightfully aligned herself with the superior friend.” 

“I- what? Rose, you just said you haven’t talked with her in days.” 

“Yeah, but at least she doesn’t literally pull 180s in the hallway to avoid me.” 

“She does not…”

“Doesn’t she?”

“...shut up.”

Finally, after one particularly grueling soccer practice, Lindsey caught Emily heading up towards the parking lot—alone. Apparently even she was too fatigued to make conversation with a teammate during the short walk.  _ Well, that’s just too bad, _ Lindsey thought,  _ because we’re going to talk whether she likes it or not _ . But she was already almost across the parking lot. Lindsey started sprinting.

“Sonnett! Dasani! Sonny!”

Ahead, she saw the girl stiffen, back tensing and swishing ponytail coming to a stop. Lindsey could almost see her inner tension— _ fight or flight? Run or stay? _ —but eventually Emily faced the inevitable and turned around, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving her as she did. Panting, Lindsey caught up to her.

“Sonny, we need...to talk…” she wheezed out.

Emily gave her a blank look for a few seconds before giving an uneasy grin.

“I’d love to, but I have to get home and shower. I have a family dinner.”

Lindsey wasn’t letting her go so easily, not after the weeks she had spent trying to find this time. The more she stood there catching her breath, glaring at her old friend’s uncomfortable expression, the more incensed Lindsey became. What was Emily’s problem, anyway?

“This...this is about Russell, isn’t it?! That’s why you’ve been avoiding me for weeks?  _ Weeks _ , Sonny! We’re supposed to be-” she swallowed the word  _ best _ because she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate anymore and she hated not knowing, “ _ friends _ , aren’t we? Look, I know you said he gave you a bad vibe, alright, fine! Fine! You were right! Is that what you want to hear? I’m SORRY, Emily, just say ‘I told you so’ and let it go, you  _ asshole _ !”

Emily flinched—Lindsey didn’t know whether from the profanity or the use of her first name but either way she’d just have to get over that, too, because Lindsey meant it. Before she could continue on her rant, Emily cut in:

“It’s not Russell- well, I guess it kinda is, but I just- I never got a bad vibe from him I just hated seeing you with him because I wished it was me and I’m not him and I’m in love with you and I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She was gasping, now, the words tumbling out of her like blocks of a collapsing Jenga tower.

Lindsey was paralyzed with shock, unable to speak or process anything besides Emily’s words running through her mind over and over again. “ _ I’m in love with you I’m in love with you I’m in love with you- _ ” Emily, on the other hand, quickly snapped out of her own paralysis. Panic flooded her, feeling like ice in her veins as Lindsey continued to stand there, no words coming out of her open mouth.

“I have to go,” Emily mumbled, sprinting off to her car. The crunching gravel under her feet sounded like her very self crumbling apart. She knew the pounding of her heart had nothing to do with the running.

//

When Lindsey finally arrived home, jumping out of her car and crashing through the house until she finally sprawled onto her bed, the first thing she did was facetime Mal.

“MalIneedyourhelpSonnyjusttoldmethatshe’sinlovewithmeandI-”

“WHOA! Whoa,” Mal interrupted, “okay, you’re going to have to start from the beginning because I got about zero of that. You look pretty upset, though- is this Russell again? That little punk, I’ll kick his ass-”

“No, no...it’s Emily.”

“Oh. Are you guys still in your dumb fight?”

Lindsey sighed.

“Kind of? Um, I don’t really know…” she huffed in frustration.

“O-kay,” Mal mused slowly, “why don’t you start from the beginning?”

Splayed across her sheets, Lindsey began explaining the situation.

“...and then, she says that she never disliked him, she was just in love with me the whole time! I mean…” Lindsey trailed off, still in disbelief. Even now, saying it out loud, she still couldn’t quite believe it. How had she not seen this?

Mal, though, didn’t quite seem to share the same shock. She raised an eyebrow in surprise, but her face through the phone screen didn’t relate the same world-shaking stunnedness that Lindsey had felt.

“So she finally told you? Damn, about time.”

Lindsey blinked. “Wait, you  _ knew _ ? Did everyone know??”

“I mean,” Mal waved her hand dismissively. “not  _ everyone _ . I mean, the freshmen are probably clueless, obviously. And it’s not like she ever confirmed it to us, except maybe Sam but you know Sam, she’d never say. We just kinda… picked it up. It was kinda obvious. I mean, once you know what to look for,” she amended, seeing the distraught look on Lindsey’s face. She paused delicately. “Aw, Linds. You really didn’t know, huh?”

Lindsey shook her head. “I mean, obviously not, or else I would’ve…” She paused.

“Would’ve what?” Mal pressed.

Lindsey’s mind (and heart) were racing now that it was slowly becoming real.  _ I mean, it’s not like the thought never crossed my mind... _ Emily was hot, of course, anyone could see that. She was also incredibly funny, and good at soccer. And she had always been there for Lindsey, throughout all of the Russell ups and downs, with a comforting hand and a plate of those perfect pancakes. But those were all things that any good friend — any  _ best _ friend — would do. That didn’t explain why Lindsey felt her stomach flip when she thought about making Emily smile, or why the thought of swapping positions — if Lindsey had been the one who had to watch Emily go through a relationship with someone else — made her feel so uncomfortable. Of course, just because Emily liked her (loved her, a voice in the back of Lindsey’s head piped up) didn’t mean she had to like- love her back. But… didn’t she?

“Oh my god. I’m in love with Emily.”

“YES!” Mal whooped. “Girl, I thought you were never going to realize! Oh my god, you have to go tell her now!”

Lindsey blanched. “Uh, I don’t know if she really wants to see me right now.”

Mal just rolled her eyes. “She’s in  _ love _ with you, remember? If she still cares enough to be in this angsty little lovers’ quarrel with you in the first place, she probably still cares enough to hear you confess your looooooove.”

“Please stop saying love.”

“Try and stop me, bitch! Okay but for real, I’m hanging up so you can call her. Seriously, Linds,” Mal brought the phone up close to her face, so Lindsey could see her eyes soften, “I’m really happy for you guys. It’s about time.”

Lindsey suddenly felt a wave of fondness wash over her. She had really lucked out with a friend like Mal. “Thanks, Mal, that means a lo-”

“Oh my god, Dansby’s calling. Okay go get your girl! Byeee-”

Lindsey stared at her blank Facetime home screen.  _ Shit. I’m really gonna do this, huh? _

//

Emily came home to an empty house, still reeling from the last words she said to Lindsey. She had meant to pick up dinner on the way home, since her parents were out for the weekend and Emma was at some boy’s house, but she barely even remembered driving back from the high school fields, her mind caught in some bizarre limbo of constantly running and totally numb. The moment wouldn’t stop replaying in her mind —  _ I’m in love with you and I’m sorry, I’m sorry _ — and the look on Lindsey’s face, the way her jaw had dropped and her eyes started to get this look that was a little too close to pity before Emily had started running.

Sighing, she grabbed a frozen pizza from the fridge and popped it in the oven just as the doorbell rang. Did Emma forget her keys again? She opened the door, half ready to make a joke at her sister’s expense, but stopped cold when it was Lindsey standing on the welcome mat.

“Sonny.” Lindsey breathed, looking almost as surprised as Emily. They both just stood there for a moment, Emily still not convinced this wasn’t some terrible hallucination, Lindsey looking at her like it was the first time she’d ever seen her.

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey blurted out finally. “I had no idea, Sonny, and I-”

“It’s fine,” Emily cut in desperately, “there’s no way you could’ve known, I totally-”

“No!” Lindsey grabbed Emily’s hands, surprising them both with her vehemence. “Listen to me, Son- Emily. I should’ve known. Even if I didn’t feel the same way, you’re still my best friend and I should’ve known that you were upset. I was too caught up in my own stuff and I wasn’t being a good friend to you, I wasn’t even…” she paused, taking a deep breath. Emily’s mind was still short-circuiting on what Lindsey had just said. _Even if I didn’t feel the same way...?_

“I love you too, Emily. It took me a long time to even see it, but it’s been you all this time. I mean it. I don’t even know how to say sorry enou-”

Emily cut her off with a kiss. Lindsey froze at first, before pressing back desperately. When they finally pulled apart, Emily was glowing.

“Stop apologizing, dummy. Never thought I’d see the Great Horan so flustered over some girl.”

“You’re not just some girl, idiot.” Lindsey swooped in for one more kiss, reveling in the dazed look Emily gave her when their eyes met again. “You’re the best pancake flipper in the world. Now, are you gonna invite me in, or what?”

//

Here’s what Emily knows:

  1. She’s in love with Lindsey.
  2. Lindsey’s in love with her too.
  3. They’re still best friends — but more than that, too.



and 4. Emily doesn’t think her life has ever been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> yea it's awkward and teenagery but they are teenagers, so! past little writer me really said let's take the dramatic inner monologues and RUN with em!! i hope this wasn't too 2015-era woso fanfic for your cultured palates. comments mean a ton so drop one if you like! stay safe out there


End file.
